


The Hand's Lady 1 - Fleeing the Fire

by Katee (admiralkate)



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Action/Adventure, F/F, F/M, Gen, Romance
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-12-17
Updated: 2015-02-22
Packaged: 2018-03-01 20:54:54
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 2,293
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2787428
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/admiralkate/pseuds/Katee
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A Qartheen woman sees the destruction by Daenerys Targaryen coming, and tries to get out before it's too late.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Qarth

**Author's Note:**

> I'm finally starting to post the full story of The Hand's Lady... in order.

_Fire._

_Smoke._

_Screaming._

_Through the haze I saw a slip of a girl with violet eyes and silvery hair. Her gaze was fixed on something in the blood red sky. I looked up. A shadow swooped towards me; I felt a blast of hot air, and the buffeting of enormous wings._

Ailsa awoke with a start and covered in a clammy cold sweat. Her heart raced.

The morning sounds of the awakening city greeted her through billowing silk curtains, the scents of the bays carried to her on the breeze; but the fresh air did little to dispel her unease. The linked traces of her nightmare filled her mind: the red-streaked horizon, the girl… the creature in the sky.

_A Valyrian?_

_A Dragon?_

She’d heard rumours of course. There was talk of a Dothraki Khaleesi claiming to be a Targaryan. _Those eyes_.

Ailsa had never believed in prophecies or magic. But she had to admit, there are things in this world that couldn’t be explained by learned men. As one of the city’s most successful, learnt to trust her instincts (they’d served her very well), and this morning her instincts were telling her her that her nightmare was something more than the night-time wanderings of a busy mind.

She rose, washed and dressed, and sent for her lieutenants.

They met her on the roof, the morning sun warming the tiles. Tall, lanky Lang, who managed on-shore trading and accounts sat with his back to the view of the bay. Barrel-chested and lusty Jonah, her master of ships, stood under the canopy, a glass of honeyed mead already half-drained. And there was Xara standing by the railing; a dark skinned Summer Islander, Xara had taken it upon herself to keep Ailsa safe, and had earned her complete faith over many years.

A moment of silence had followed Ailsa’s proclamation that trouble was coming. Xara had nodded her head, the beads in her hair tinkling. She wore head toe leather, and Ailsa had never seen her unarmed. ‘From the West,’ she now said softly. ‘Not long.’

Lang took a long draft of his drink. ‘The dragon queen? She’s a child.’

‘With dragons.’ Jonah was a seaman, and seamen were a superstitious lot.

‘Dragons no bigger than house cats.’ Lang drained his cup. ‘Nothing to concern us.’

Ailsa looked at Xara. The other woman’s dark eyes met hers.

‘I’m leaving.’ Ailsa silenced the men’s protests with a raised palm. ‘You can come with me. Or stay here. I’ll take what I need, and share the rest among those who remain.’ She waited for a moment as they considered. Lang was an ambitious man, and the thought of taking over the Idrisa trading empire clearly excited him. His eyes glimmered in anticipation, but still he asked, ‘Why?’ He crossed his arms and continued. ‘Surely whatever’s coming, even a dragon queen, isn’t worth abandoning everything we’ve built here?’

Jonah nodded. ‘We’ve faced obstacles before, my Lady. Is this danger so great?’

Ailsa gave them each a long measured look. ‘You know me well. You know how little faith I place in things like portents and omens. So I want you to understand my full meaning when I tell you that I’ve had a message. I’ve seen the destruction coming to Qarth. Fire, and smoke and death.’

A moment of silence hung between them. Then Xara stood. ‘I’ll make arrangements,’ she said softly, and left. Ailsa didn’t have to ask to know that Xara would come with her.

Lang shifted uncomfortably as Jonah cleared his throat and asked, ‘How many ships will we take?’

Ailsa was grateful. Jonah always saw things practically, and if anyone was going to believe her, it would be he.

‘Two.’

Jonah rose. ‘I’ll see to it.’

Lang sat silently as Ailsa gazed out past his shoulder to the bay. The water glittered, and she could see _Sorrow’s Song_ at anchor. One of Qarth’s largest, she was Xara’s favourite.

‘Lang,’ she murmured eventually. ‘You wish to stay.’

He gave her a smile. ‘I do. Even if only to keep the lanterns lit for your return.’

She clasped his shoulder as she stood. ‘There’ll be no return, my old friend.’


	2. A Letter

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A discovery long waiting to be made.

Some months ago, with sleep eluding her, Ailsa had found the courage to venture into her father’s study. Since his disappearance, she hadn’t even stepped foot in the room. Others had: Lang to collect papers and records, and servants to try to keep to the dust at bay. But Ailsa hadn’t. Until that night.

Alone with a lantern, Ailsa ventured inside. There were papers in piles everywhere, stacked on tables, filling wooden crates. She’d flipped through a few, but there was nothing important. Lang had taken care of all that.

She’d sat at her father’s desk; heard the creak of the leather seat as it took her weight. The space in front of her was clear: an empty, now dusty, spot where her father once wrote his correspondence.

She’d tipped back in the chair as she’d so often seem him do, and rested her head against the wall. She closed her eyes. The room smelled like him. She ran her hands over the leather armrests, feeling the wear of her father’s elbows. Sometime later she opened her eyes, and there, hidden above her in the rafters of the ceiling, was a book. She could just make out its shape by the light of the lantern. Even standing on the desk she couldn’t reach it, despite her height, so she tipped papers out of crates to stack on the desk, and balancing precariously had retrieved the book from its place on a thick wooden beam.

It looked like her father’s journal, bound in soft leather stained a dark green, but tied with a silver chain. However, this book wasn’t worn like her father’s journal. It was almost unused. She unbound the chain and the spine creaked a little as she opened the cover. The fine leather had stiffened a little after years in the dusty ceiling.

A piece of folded parchment fluttered to the floor.

Ailsa gingerly climbed back down. She didn’t want to wake the household with the crashing of crates as she fell. The parchment had slid under a cupboard and she had to get down on hands and knees to fish it out. After a moment she felt it under her fingertips and pulled to her along the floor. It was covered in dust and fluff. She blew on it, revealing writing, and then fell back against the cupboard door, her breath leaving her.

The parchment had her name inscribed in her father’s distinctive hand. Stomach clenched and fingers trembling, she unfolded the sheet and turned it toward the light.

It was a letter from her father.


	3. The Khalessi

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The arrival of Daenerys Stormborn solidifies Ailsa's plans.

Months passed since the discussion on the roof, and while none of Ailsa’s fears abated, none of the signs of her dream appeared. She began to feel foolish, but kept the plan in place.

The letter and diary went with her everywhere, to meetings, to the docks, and Xara was instructed that the little book and parchment were worth Ailsa’s life to protect. Xara, of course, took this duty very seriously.

And even when the comet appeared in the sky, brilliant red and trailing fire, Ailsa still worried she’d set herself on a course for failure, for no other reason than a silly dream. Her confidence waivered daily, fluctuating between absolute surety she’d made the right decision, and encompassing doubt. Standing alone on her balcony, watching the sunset, she felt as though the comet seemed to blaze in protest at being left alone in the heavens. _It’s beginning_.

Days passed, and while nothing else happened, the comet continued to hang above them, dominating the sky and turning it red. And then, a straggling group of Dothraki, led by a silver haired girl and a Westerosi knight, arrived at the gates.

***

‘We should leave now.’

‘I want to meet her.’

‘You were the one convinced destruction was coming, and now you want to stay?’

‘Of course I _want_ to stay. This is my home!’

‘So we’re staying?’

‘No, we’re leaving. After I’ve met her.’

Xara sighed in defeat. ‘Then I’m coming with you.’

Ailsa shrugged her shoulders and tugged on her belt. Filigree metal inlaid with emeralds, it emphasised her slim waist and complemented the pale green silk of her gown. She wore the Qartheen style, but had adjusted the fabric to cover both breasts; not for any sense of modesty, but because it was warmer that way. Xara wore leather, as always.

Xaro Xhoan Daxos was hosting Daenerys Targaryen in his manse, and laid on a sumptuous party in his expansive gardens. He’d obviously lavished the young Khalessi with all she could need. Her Dothraki prowled about the place looking extremely uncomfortable, while Daenerys Stormborn herself was all charm and smiles. She was barely more than a child, though a woman wed. A slip of a girl, and despite her tiny frame, the Mother of Dragons carried a spine of steel Ailsa was sure should not be trifled with.

Ailsa watched as members of the Thirteen took turns in Daenerys’ company, no doubt attempting to intimidate her; Ailsa saw the young woman politely remain completely unfazed… until the warlock’s showy display. Never far from her side stood the Westerosi knight, who seemed to have the same attitude as Xara when it came to dressing. He still wore dusty leather boots, while every other man around him wore gilded sandals and silk. Something about him seemed more than just uncomfortable. Ailsa made a mental note to find out.

Xaro Xhoan Daxos introduced Ailsa to his guest of honour, favouring the Khaleesi as the more important of the two women. Clearly the man thought the little queen would bring his some advantage. Ailsa studied Daenerys; small, delicate, with a regal bearing, she had confidence bordering on zealous. Ailsa suspected it stemmed from a kind of faith.

As the young woman graced Ailsa with a smile, their eyes met, and it was all Ailsa could do not to gasp aloud. _Violet eyes._ The sudden chill wasn’t surprising. Despite her wavering, this further proof that there was substance to her vision still shocked Ailsa. With silver hair and violet eyes, this little Mother of Dragons was going to change the world… or burn it down; Ailsa held no doubts now. She met Xara’s eyes through the crowd. The other woman’s face mirrored her own feelings: there was real danger in Qarth now.

***

The House of Idrisa continued business as usual. Ships sailed, trades were made, money came and went. At times Ailsa worried she should warn others about the coming storm, but they’d think her mad. Qarth was the greatest city that had been or ever will be. It had never been taken. So they carried on as if nothing was amiss, waiting for the sign to leave.

Ailsa had one more opportunity to meet Daenerys Stormborn. The Khalessi needed ships, needed an army, and was approaching every member of the Thirteen. The House of Idrisa was not a member, and it seemed no one had suggested the Khalessi ask other merchants for help. Ailsa wasn’t sure she would have helped, had she been asked. All her instincts told her that Daenerys’s intentions were pure, but the girl was as ruthless as any ruler before her. So when Daenerys interrupted Ailsa’s meeting with Altair Safwah, storming into the old man’s solar without introduction, Safwah threw them both out. Unceremoniously escorted to the street by burly bodyguards, Daenerys was fuming. She neither knew nor cared who Ailsa was, clearly having forgotten their introduction, and barely spared her a second glance as she stalked down the street with two bloodriders in tow.

Ailsa convinced the bodyguards to allow her to conclude her business with Safwah’s second, then, exhausted, found her way home. Xara was waiting for her, the journal and letter sitting beside her on the bed. Her dark skin was still damp from a bath, beaded hair piled high on her head. The bathing tub steamed with fresh water, the evening breeze billowing the curtains surrounding it. Ailsa smiled gratefully as Xara moved to her and began untying her tunic.

Later, Xara told her how she’d discovered that Jorah Mormont, the Khalessi’s knight, had been banished from Westeros for trading slaves. He continued to trade there though, but now in secrets and information. He had regularly sent reports to Robert Baratheon’s Master of Secrets, apparently in exchange for a royal pardon. Sailors carrying the messages were not always discreet. No messages had made their way west for some time, Mormont’s loyalties shifting to the determined girl in his charge.

One of the servants knocked loudly, startling the two women from their sleepy discussion. An informant of Xara’s had appeared in the courtyard, gasping for breath. His message was exactly what they’d all been dreading: the Khalessi’s dragons had been stolen and members of her khalasar murdered.

Xara left immediately to notify Jonah and Lang that it was time. They packed hurriedly, but it still took hours to get everything ready, despite Jonah’s preparation of the ships.

Lang insisted that he would be there when she returned, that there would be nothing to worry about, and plenty for her to come back to. He was sure that any trouble wouldn’t touch the House of Idrisa. He stood on the balcony and waved until Ailsa, on the deck of _Hearts Rush_ , couldn’t see him anymore. Her ships had cleared the bay when the sailor in the crow’s nest shouted that smoke billowed from the House of the Undying. She could see Jonah at the helm of _Sorrow’s Song_ ; he nodded. He never doubted her.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I don't have a beta, and suffer from nasty writer's block most of the time. Any constructive comments would be very welcome!


End file.
